Post Yom Kippur - All Atoned Up And Ready To A-Go!
Post Yom Kippur -
All Atoned Up And Ready To A-Go! – Don’t Get Me Started!
I’m sure that there are many of you who did not realize that this past Monday was Yom Kippur.
The reason I can imagine that a lot of you didn’t know is because we have three calendars in my home and two out of
the three got it completely gone. That’s right, my spouse even thought it was Rosh Hashanah, complete with the “Happy
New Year” card when I awoke (although it wasn’t a real Rosh Hashanah card as my spouse knows what I know, that
they just don’t have the Jewish Holiday cards readily available) and as two of the calendars had proclaimed it was Rosh
Hashanah too alas when he found out I was staying home from work, fasting and doing some real high level thinking he gave
me a look as if to say I had gotten it wrong, showed me what the calendar said and then throwing his hands up said, “Well,
Happy Rosh Kippur, I’m done.” As he went around checking the other calendars, he came back
to me and said, “Well no wonder there are never any cards, no one knows when your holidays are because the date changes
every year. I have no sympathy for you.” Subject closed. So I can imagine that there are many who don’t get the
whole Jewish holidays and why the date changes every year (you see, the Jewish calendar is lunar, with
each month beginning on the new moon, not the calendar date). Anyway, I fasted, I thought, I prayed and now I find I’m
all atoned up and ready to a-go! – Don’t Get Me Started!
While some people spend their Yom Kippur (the holiest day on the Jewish calendar) in synagogue praying,
I decided a long time ago that for me spirituality is really personal and while I wouldn’t say I’d never go to
synagogue again, I have a real problem with all organized religions and most of the people who supposedly run the religions
so I decided the best way for me to really observe the holiday is with myself. I spend time thinking a lot about not only
the prior year but many prior years. Reflecting on choices I made that were good and the ones that were not so good. As someone
who has always believed one of the most important things in life is to take responsibility for your own actions and that you
are also the one who creates your own destiny, I’ve found it a really good exercise for my soul to take this day each
year (wherever it may fall on the calendar) to unplug the phones and computers and anything that distracts me from listening
to myself and just focus on the life I’ve created for myself, how it affects the people around me and what I want to
do differently (if anything) moving forward. I will tell you that the fasting seems to help.
The first couple of hours are tough for me; I have a mind that
is constantly going in a million directions so to even try to quiet it is difficult for me. I think that’s where the
empty stomach comes in to help, no indigestion from something I ate or thinking about what I’m going to be having for
lunch takes a lot of what’s normally running through my mind, or any Jew’s for that matter. And
by hour three or so I’m really starting to take a good look at myself (whether I like what I see or not). I won’t
go into any detail but let me just say that I had plenty of past choices and life stuff to examine over the next hours until
sundown. Having to face yourself is one of the most exhausting things ever and when all was said and done while I did feel
ready to tackle life before me I also was thankful that this was only a once year occurrence. Sure Iself-reflect
from time to time throughout the year but this was the hardcore stuff, the stuff that you’ll only admit to yourself
late at night (and sometimes not even then if you can get your hands on enough Ambien).
So as I made my way back into the world, turning on my phone to discover
that I had over 100 emails and several voicemails, I turned off my “out of office” on my computer and re-entered
the world looking exactly as I had the day before except there was a difference. I’m more aware of my surroundings and
how I interact with them, I have a heightened sense of awareness that will most likely fade after time (like the feeling you
used to have after roller skating for an hour and then taking the skates off still feeling as though you had them on for another
hour or so), inside me I feel a little more mentally toned up. Or should I say, “tuned up” like we used to have
done to our cars to make them run a little better? That’s right, I’m ready to run a little better with the race
that is human, seeing my role a little clearer and understanding that I’m writing the script, producing and directing
this life so while I’ll listen to what the critics have to say, I have to be true to my own artistic sensibility when
creating the staged masterpiece that is my life. Sure there will still be some brush up rehearsals, drama in the second act
so that there can be a resolution by the time I reach my third and final act but I’m coming out of the wings and taking
the stage so get ready world cause I’m all atoned and nowhere to a-go! – Don’t Get Me Started!
Hate Must Be Awfully
Awful To Live With – Don’t Get Me Started!
I get a lot of comments from the blogs I write, most of them are very complimentary, telling me how
I managed to put into words that the person writing in has felt, thought, etc. but on occasion there are the negative comments.
Most I leave on my website because I’ve always felt is better to know that the “enemy” is still out there
and I’d much rather have someone admit that they don’t like me rather than be nice to my face and then do and
say hateful things behind my back. Most of the time I find a way to make those comments into a new blog (See my video blog
about people who use the word, “faggot” never seeming to know how to spell it here - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hv3HPAA6kqU). All that said, I recently was blindsided by a comment from someone who obviously subscribes
to the hate is a good way to go and I found myself feeling sorry for him, thinking that hate must be awfully awful to live
with – Don’t Get Me Started!
One of the most popular blog entries I ever wrote was entitled, “Gay Baby Names” it was all about some
friends of mine who had just had a baby and how even if we don’t have a stereotypical “gay” sounding name
given to us by our parents, we tend to “gay up” our names as we get older. It was a silly little piece however
it never ceases to amaze me how many people viewed that particular entry. So many people viewed it that I finally added a
piece at the bottom of it asking people to let me know how they came across the entry. Were they looking for baby names and
trying to avoid a “gay” name or what? Some interesting comments, you can read them all here - http://hubpages.com/hub/Gay_Baby_Names. Although I posted it in 2007 it still gets many views a day so I’m never really surprised
by the comments that still come in on this particular post. But this past week came this comment from someone named, Matt.
No last name, no link to a website as some comments have and I wasn’t surprised because the people who post the most
hateful comments always seem to cloak themselves in the anonymity afforded people on the World Wide Web. As I’ve oft
written, I imagine them in front of their computers in a hovel with their Cheetoh stained fingers typing at the keys when
they probably have lovely homes and are not the Uni-Bomber at all.
Here’s the comment:
You should all be fucking shot you useless fags, fucking GAY BABY NAMES?????? what the
fuck is next? Seriously, I have gay mates, lots of them, but this is just fucking sick, beyond sick infact, how about choosing
real names and letting the child decide for itself whether it wants to be a fucking pole smoker or not.
YOU ALL SOO MUCH FOR POLLUTING OUR SOCIETY, CHEERS, DIE OF AIDS FUCKERS.
What got me about the comments above were that he obviously hadn’t even read the entry. He also
doesn’t have a sense of humor either. I wondered who his “gay mates” were and whether or not they would
still want to be his mate if they knew he was posting this kind of crap on the Internet. I wondered why these people never
seem to use punctuation properly or know how to spell check anything but more than anything, I thought about just how exhausting
it must be to walk around with all this hate inside you. While my blog started by me taking aim at all the things that pissed
me off, I don’t really carry hate in my heart, not like Matt seems to have in his heart. I hope he feels better that
he got it off his chest but this is a comment that will not appear on my website (other than in this blog) because sometimes
there’s nothing to be learned from hateful words and people. Sometimes, I think it’s better that they don’t
get the attention they seem to crave, that when they visit the place where they shat their hate that it’s all clear
and clean. And let’s face it, we gays are good at cleaning up, right?
Still there’s a part of me that wondered why I wanted to write a blog about it. I’m a
lover of old movies and I put in a DVD of mine this past weekend of Gentlemen’s Agreement – a Gregory Peck movie
where he plays a magazine journalist who does a story on Anti-Semitism. When his young son asks what Anti-Semitism is at breakfast,
he stumbles a bit but does the best he can to explain. Peck’s mother encourages her son (Peck) and the way he handled
the topic with his son (Dean Stockwell) though Peck is still frustrated with being given the assignment and trying to figure
out an angle for it. His mother explains why this story would be so important to tell, “I don’t know. Maybe it
hasn’t been said well enough. If it had, you wouldn’t have had to explain it to Tommy, or your father and I to
you. It would be nice sometime not to have to explain it…to someone like Tommy. Kids are so decent to start with.”
I guess that’s why I write often about people who express their hate for me because I’m gay or Jewish or a number
of other things. It’s my hope that maybe sometime we wouldn’t have to explain it anymore, that people and humanity
will change enough where we’ll becoming truly accepting of one another for our sameness as well as our differences.
All we can do is hope, right? Hate must be awfully awful to live with – Don’t Get Me Started!
Why Pet Owners Canít Help Treating Their Pets Like Children
Why Pet Owners Can’t
Help Treating Their Pets Like Children – Don’t Get Me Started!
I’ve oft written about the experiences I’ve had since taking in
two stray cats. Up to the point where we got the two cats (a brother and sister who had been abandoned and literally walked
through our patio door one nice evening) my family had only had one pet during my formative years. We had a dog that was a
Cockapoo that was a gift for my brother when his asthma prevented him to continue the horse riding he had loved so much. He
named the dog Apollo Skylab and we had him for a long time. I was completely unprepared for owning cats but over the course
of the last five years of having them I feel as though I’ve been a responsible and pretty damn good owner. But as I
crept more and more into that dangerous water of becoming one of “those” pet owners who talk incessantly about
their animals and think everything they do is adorable, I resisted as much as possible and stayed in the shallow end of that
pool. But a recent event got me to thinking why we pet owners just can’t seem to help ourselves. Why pet owners can’t
help treating their pets like children – Don’t Get Me Started!
As my life got taken over by cat toys, rollers of masking tape to remove their hair from everything
I owned (a futile but much needed task because within moments it can get completely out of control until your whole life is
covered in fur) and catering to their likes and dislikes in their food, the room temperature and everything else I discovered
that while I didn’t see them as my children, I treated them that way. In a way you can’t help yourself because
they seem like a baby, so helpless. After all, they can’t tell you what’s wrong or what they need(though I know
some people are convinced that they communicate in a non-verbal, ESP sort of way, the bottom line is that they can’t
actually speak to you and say, “No, I don’t want that food, it sucks, I don’t care that it was on sale.”
Instead they simply look at you with what seems a disgusted sneer and then scratch around the food bowl as if they’re
covering it up like a turd. Sure, you get the message loud and clear but they didn’t really “speak” to you.)
And like a baby, they need you to feed them, brush them, love on them so that they can become decent full
grown pets, right? So it’s easy to see how the lines become a bit blurry.
And like parents my spouse and I sometimes chastise one another for not “parenting”
as the other thinks he should be parenting. “If you keep letting them wake you up in the middle of the night to pet
them that’s all they’re ever going to do, you don’t expect them to know that you have to work tomorrow and
stop on their own do you? You’ve taught them to wake you up when they want attention so that’s what they’re
going to do.” This is a common comment from my spouse when I tell him I’m exhausted in the morning and it’s
the cats’ fault. Just writing that makes me cringe but you (and more to the point, I) have to admit it sounds awfully
“parenting” to me.
recently I discovered just how far I’ve slipped into the abyss of cat owners who think of their pets as their children.
Due to the fact that our cats started their lives (we think) outside, we’ve always allowed them to be indoor/outdoor
cats. The male is a big cat that is the most needy cat you’ve ever met in your life. When he’s inside he has the
need to be on my lap all the time. Sometimes I find myself trying not to sit down for fear he’ll see me sitting and
immediately jump into my lap. The female cat is very tiny (runt of the litter we think) with an alien-like look that often
gives me the feeling that she’s disgusted with me. But they’re very loving cats that spend a lot of time on our
laps and purring loudly. Well the other day I was outside and there was our male cat outside too. He was just strolling about
and as I got closer to him I noticed that this cat who can’t stand to be anywhere but on my lap when inside was ignoring
me when he was outside. That’s right, he wouldn’t look at me (even when I called his name) and he just scooted
about in front of me as if he had no idea who I was and that’s when it really started to sink in. I had become the parent
of a teenage cat. I immediately felt as though he was embarrassed by me and that his acting like he didn’t know me was
to “save face” in front of his cat friends. Can any of this be founded in reality? Absolutely not. But I certainly
felt that way so all my efforts over these past years were in vain. All the promising not to do holiday cards with pictures
of my cats on them or entering them into the “cute cat picture” contests was in vain too. Without a doubt and
with much humiliation, I have to admit it, I’ve become one of those people, one of those people who consider
their pets to be their children. Let’s just hope my cat grows out of this current phase he’s in soon so that I
can get him into a good college. I’m going to go be sick now. Why pet owners can’t help treating their pets like
children – Don’t Get Me Started!
MIT Students Create
Facebook Gaydar Software! – Don’t Get Me Started!
It was bound to happen, right? As we all “friended” everyone we knew (and for some, people
they sort of or didn’t know at all) on our Facebook page there were bound to be some negatives to all the positives
of discovering that person you used to sit next to in algebra in the ninth grade. I personally feel the negatives are the
people who I was never really close to but knew from work or school who have now found me and want to send me enormously long
missives (complete with photos) of their 2.5 children and their dog. I DON’T CARE!!! But some students at MIT decided
to do some of what they do best, analyzing to see if they could discover if someone was gay, not by that profile pic of them
wearing a t-shirt that said, “Pitcher” but by the company they kept. Or in this case, by the friends they have
on their Facebook page. MIT students create Facebook gaydar software! – Don’t Get Me Started!
While I’ve all ready read on one blog about how to “un-gay”
your Facebook page so as they put it, “your boss won’t know” (Something I just find really weird. If you
have a boss that you’re putting as a “friend” on Facebook and they don’t know you’re gay, it’s
not going to take software for them to figure out who gets you software hard). And while I do find it interesting that all
these college kids find ways to take modern technology and do all their testing and software designing to earn grand degrees
from such a prestigious school, I think I could have saved them all a lot of money, time and effort. For that matter, any
of us gays of a certain age could have most likely saved them their efforts because whether you believe in gaydar or not,
it often doesn’t take some “Spidey” sense to figure out who is gay and who isn’t, it just takes some
powers of deduction. That’s right, we gays have be Gaylock Holmes for years.
Back in the day, there was no Facebook, in fact allow me to go even further
back into the technological prehistoric times before there was even AOL or the Internet. Yes new gays, there was a time like
this and gays were still able to do everything from find long lasting relationships to long lasting lube to be used with a
short lasting acquaintance in the alley behind a 7/11. It may have started with the little than longer eye contact between
two men but really if you wanted to know who was “A friend of Dorothy” back in the day, you had to use all your
powers of deduction. You see back in the 1970’s (I was really too young during this time but let’s just say I
had a heightened sense of gay awareness that would serve me well until I could get into the 80’s and became old enough
to understand and act on my gayness.) in the 70’s it was more about the people you associated with I think. Which to
no surprise is the premise of the new MIT report, it’s about the company you keep. Back in the 70’s the “gay
ghetto” was born, areas of a town where gays lived, worked and worked it out. By the 1980’s we had renovated these
areas and made them fabulous for gays and straights alike until we sold them to the straights in the 1990’s and made
a crap load of money off of our good taste and ability to take something that was less than pleasing and make it appealing
to the masses. But allow me to stop this somewhat history lesson and get back to finding out who is gay without the neighborhood,
“Pitcher” shirt or assless chaps.
You see, you used your powers of deduction by first watching the gay. Was the possible gay well dressed, witty, and
using references from old Hollywood movies or Broadway? If so, you were on your way. Sure it’s a stereotype but don’t
forget that sometimes stereotypes are stereotypes because they’re true and back in the day this was the case. If you
got past meeting someone in a non gay bar environment and were still unsure about their gayness then you had to do some more
digging, shall we say. If you got into the car and the 8-track was Donna Summer you were getting closer to discovering gayness.
If you eventually made it to the guy’s apartment and/or house then you could easily find out if he was gay. How you
ask? By doing what we all do – excusing yourself to go to the restroom and then going over it like a CSI detective.
If your host was occupied and you could get a peek into their nightstand then you should have everything you need to know
if someone was gay or not.
above is not to say that all gays back in the day were screaming queens. In fact, quite the opposite. I think that outside
the areas of towns like the gay ghettos it was increasingly important for the physical health of the gays that they appear
as straight as possible. But get to one of their houses and see Nagle or Erte’ prints on the wall or find poppers and
or lube in the nightstand drawer and I don’t care how much they were talking about sports they were interested in your
tight end and making you a wide receiver before the night was through.
So while I’m glad that technology has made it easier for all of us to connect to one another
(and then set the privacy settings so that the same people we “friended” can no longer see anything about us)
the one thing that I really don’t need Facebook to tell me is who is gay. It’s sort of like when Tivo came out
and everyone was worried that their Tivo thought they were gay by the shows it chose for them based on their other recorded
shows. There’s a lot for us gays to worry about, rights, marriage, disease, and the list goes on and on. As a man who
has been out since the time he was five, lip syncing to Barbra Streisand in his living room to “Second Hand Rose”
with a silk red rose from my mother’s floral arrangement in his teeth, I’m not too worried about technology outing
me. Good for the MIT kids but kids, like with most things, all you really needed was a gay, not software to figure out who’s
gay and who isn’t on Facebook. We could have saved you hours of research and energy. MIT students create Facebook gaydar
software! – Don’t Get Me Started!
Falling Out Of Friend
On Facebook And Life – Don’t Get Me Started!
When I first joined Facebook there was almost an immediate glut of people wanting to “friend”
me. It gave me a warm and fuzzy feeling inside. While I’ll admit there were people that I thought I had gotten rid of
from my life long ago and were now suddenly here trying to get back into my life (many did not make it, staying in Facebook
purgatory – the inbox – or just being “ignored”) on the whole the Facebook connection was a good way
to sort of re-connect with those from high school, past jobs, etc. But as time moved on, I found that my inbox was less and
less full. What had once annoyed me, that there were so many people trying to “friend” me had now turned into
an old Peggy Lee song, “Is that all there is?” As time moved on there were less and less people trying to “friend”
me and so I began to think, is the number of people trying to find me on Facebook so finite that I’ve reached my limit
for doing nothing and having people want to “friend” me? Sure, I’ve done some half-assed searching for people
and friended some that way but the exciting thing for me was having someone else seek you out and you having to do nothing.
Falling out of “friend” on Facebook and life – Don’t Get Me Started!
As I learned more and more about the security settings (placing
certain people in what I called the “censored” list – meaning they could see very little to nothing of what
was posted on my “wall”) I began to realize that some of the people who either accepted my “friend”
request or I had accepted theirs suddenly seemed non-existent in the land of Facebook. Could they have done what I did to
them? Put me in a group that didn’t really get to see all that much of their “wall” or information? It’s
a little hard to get indignant about something that you have done to someone else when you find out they’ve done it
to you, yet I still managed to do it. When my brother and I would fight when we were little my father would say, “You
can dish it out but you can’t take it.” Well, that’s exactly how I feel right now, it’s okay for me
to isolate certain people in the Facebook world but I’ll be damned if I’ll let them do the same to me. Well, let’s
face it, even a control freak like me understands he has no control over this but it won’t stop me from bitching about
So then as often happens with
my mind, I began to think about the whole idea of Facebook friends and how life used to be before Facebook. Remember when
you had “real” friends that you would call, email and even back in the day write a letter to? Think about all
of the people that you managed to keep in touch with, without a “wall” a “quiz” to forward or an online
who’s who of your life. In my opinion, it was easier to compartmentalize the people in your life than Facebook friends.
You knew if you told a particular person something that everyone in your immediate circle would know within hours. You knew
the people who would take your secrets to the grave and as awful as it may sound, you un-friended people, just like Facebook
only in real life you did it by allowing more and more time go between “get togethers” or talking on the phone
until they “got the message” and faded away from your life. Sure it may be easier to “un-friend” someone
with the touch of a button but does it hurt any less then when you came to the conclusion that a friend (or friends) were
no longer moving in the same direction as you and so you moved on without them?
Look, most of the people I have on my Facebook are acquaintances at this point.
They either knew me in high school or from some other time in my life. I haven’t evolved all that much but the online
friendships renewed by Facebook in most cases require very little and are as surface level as they come. A comment on someone’s
wall every once in awhile, a note on their birthday perhaps but on the whole it requires very little and I have to give very
little of myself. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I miss the burden of friendship. The need because they were
a friend and meant so much to you that you returned the call, email or letter as soon as possible. Now I can allow something
to sit in my Facebook inbox for over a week or so without responding. If I see it on someone’s Facebook wall and they
didn’t email me directly, I feel less and less the need to comment or email or call them.
With everyone practically putting every bowel movement on theirs
on their Facebook page, I somewhere along the way became so desensitized to my real friend’s lives that I felt if it
was on Facebook it somehow didn’t count. Taking the thought, “Well, if they really wanted me to know they would
have called or emailed and not allowed me to find out with everyone else in the world on their Facebook page.” Recently
a friend put on their Facebook page that their mother was going through a rough time medically and asked for prayers. I said
a silent prayer but never responded to the “friend” because I don’t know, it seemed too trite to post on
their wall that I was concerned for them and that I had said a prayer for them, their mother and their family. Was
it Facebook, the public notice to all or simply that this was someone that I used to spend almost every waking moment with
over twenty years ago and hadn’t seen in about that long due to physical and emotional distance that I gave myself permission
to not respond to their Facebook post? Another friend thanked people on Facebook for condolences about one of their family
members who had passed. I didn’t even know someone had died in their family. I knew Army Archer of Variety and Patrick
Swayze had died but not this person’s relative. How do you respond to that one? I did nothing.
So as life and technology moves on, I just want to remind everyone
(including myself) that a personal note or call to a friend is still important and holds more weight than a “thumbs
up” or one sentence post on their Facebook wall. That some “friends” were friends during a period of your
life and not in it for the long haul and its okay to let them go from your current day life while reveling in the great times
you once had. And finally that whole crap about “doing unto others as you would have them do unto you” is all
well and good but if you’re going to dish it out you need to be prepared to take it too. Falling out of “friend”
on Facebook and life – Don’t Get Me Started!
Arizona Governor Jan Brewer Revokes Domestic Partner Insurance Benefits For State Employees
Arizona Governor Jan
Brewer Revokes Domestic Partner Insurance Benefits For State Employees – Don’t Get Me Started!
If age has taught me anything it’s that
nothing lasts forever. But unfortunately for Arizona state employees, forever didn’t even last a year. Last year, then
Governor Janet Napolitano extended the definition of “dependent” to include Domestic Partners when it came to
the state providing health benefit coverage. In a supposed effort to save the state money, now Governor Jan Brewer quietly
signed a law this week redefining what a “dependent” is when it comes to the state’s responsibility for
health benefit coverage. Her new “definition” does not include Domestic Partners of the same sex, Domestic Partners
of opposite sex nor any of the above’s children aged 23-24 who are full time students or disabled adult dependents of
state employees. According to reports from the web, this will affect 800 employees and of the 170 who applied for these benefits
within the last year, forty were same sex couples and the rest fell into the other categories. From a $650 million dollar
budget, this will save the state $3 million. In what everyone is calling a religious belief motivated move as opposed to a
fiscally responsible move, those of us who got the news (and the wind knocked out of us) are of course angry but there’s
also an overwhelming sadness. Arizona governor Jan Brewer revokes Domestic Partner insurance benefits for state employees
– Don’t Get Me Started!
was watching CNN the other day and they were showing the 91 year old Senator Byrd on the Senate floor (he was hospitalized
and they were showing old footage with the story). Byrd was yelling and gesticulating to beat the band and a straight, forty-something
co-worker said, “Wow, look at all of these old guys, they just don’t get it. They’re so out of touch.”
This comment along with the news of Governor Brewer’s huge step back in the evolution of humanity with one swipe of
her pen this week and the disgusting imagery of Tom Delay (yet another corrupt politician) strutting his stuff as it were
on Dancing With The Stars, got me to thinking about the generation of white conservative politicians who are desperately trying
to hold onto their power and fantasy of the world as it should be as the world changes around them. They refuse to see the
world as it is and only see it as they wanted it to be back in 1950. All white, all men, all powerful.
And as I thought about this generation that continues to be
in power, constantly trying to push down people who aren’t exactly like them, cutting their dirty deals, using government
monies to fund their own pet projects or summer homes, I began to think of a monologue that Sidney Poitier delivered in the
movie Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner written by William Rose. A landmark film about race, the movie is about a young girl
(Katherine Houghton) who returns home from a trip to Hawaii in love with a black doctor (Sidney Poitier) whom she is anxious
to marry. Katherine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy are the girl’s parents and Beah Richards and Roy Glenn play Sidney Poitier’s
parents. Roy Glenn’s character, a retired mailman has just finished telling Poitier everything he and his mother sacrificed
to give Sidney Poitier’s character the advantages he had to go to good schools, become a doctor, etc. While the words
are specifically about race and parents, I think it still resonates for those of us who see the generation before us so out
of touch with the world and who we are as a generation.
“Let me tell you something. I owe you nothing. If you carried that bag a million miles, you
did what you were supposed to do because you brought me into this world and from that day you owed me everything you could
ever do for me, like I will owe my son, if I ever have another. But you don’t own me. You can’t tell me when or
where I’m out of line or try to get me to live my life according to your rules. You don’t even know what I am,
Dad. You don’t know who I am, how I feel, what I think. And if I tried to explain it the rest of your life you would
never understand. You are years older than I am. You and your whole lousy generation believes the way it was for you is the
way it’s got to be. And not until the whole of your generation has lain down and died will the dead weight of you be
off our backs! You understand? You’ve got to get off my back, Dad. You’re my father. I’m your son. I love
you. I always have and I always will. But you think of yourself as a colored man. I think of myself as a man.”
Do I think everyone in the generation before
me doesn’t “get it” and needs to die before we’ll see change? No. My own parents do not feel this
way and there are plenty of examples of even politicians like Ted Kennedy and all the work he did for equality that would
prove me wrong in a second. But for me, it’s about the people who still believe there’s a “moral majority”
the millions in a generation of people who still think it’s okay to make fun of blacks, gays, anyone who isn’t
white like them. Who think they’re somehow better and therefore deserve benefits and rights that those of us who are
“beneath them” do not deserve. Yes, I do believe that until those people in the generation before me have “lain
down and died will the dead weight of them be off our backs.” And how sad that people in power like a Governor Brewer
don’t get it and try to protect their antiquated view of the world and its inhabitants. To paraphrase from the quote
above, “She only sees me as a gay man. I think of myself as a man.” Arizona governor Jan Brewer revokes Domestic
Partner insurance benefits for state employees – Don’t Get Me Started!
Iím Always Amazed That The People Who Use The Word, ďFaggotĒ Donít Know How To Spell It!
67 – I’m Always Amazed That The People Who Use The Word, “Faggot” Don’t Know How To Spell It!
You would think if the only way you knew how to express your hate was in words that you would at least spell check it but
I’m constantly amazed by the people who write in and have no idea how to spell the word.
Why I Think Hair Dying Is Best Left To Professionals And Gays
Why I Think Hair Dying
Is Best Left To Professionals And Gays– Don’t Get Me Started!
Do you remember the old television commercial for I think Ogilvie perms? It
showed a person with a great looking perm and then the voiceover said, “Salon Perm or Ogilvie?” Well, I never
tried to give myself a home perm (that stupid I’m not, although I did allow so-called professional hair people to talk
me into getting perms throughout my life with only disastrous results – there were several of them because I’m
obviously a slow learner but allow me to give you just the highlights in this digression – 1. Turned
my hair three shades lighter, you could see the rod marks in my head because my hair is so thin and I looked like a crazed
twelve year old Shirley Temple, 2. A “root perm” that was supposed to give me “lift” from the root
but actually just made the hair closest to my head seem like a matted mess with long straggly straight ends-
think Michael Jackson in the “Bad” years, 3. A “Body Wave” that made my hair look like a fifty year
old woman’s hair from the 1950’s – set, teased and brushed out.) So the first few times I had my hair dyed
I went to a professional. But I soon started worrying about getting that hair that seems only reserved for old men. You know,
the ones who have dyed their hair so much that they finally end up just looking as if they’ve got shoe polish on an
old Brillo pad that used to be hair? So I went to a demi-permanent hair color which just coats the hair shaft and doesn’t
really “dye” the hair as much as it just “dresses the hair” in a different color. As this type of
color fades out in a few weeks (instead of growing out leaving roots like permanent color) it began to seem increasingly stupid
to pay all the money to a professional to put this semi-color on my head and so it came to pass that I convinced my partner
to do it for me. After all, we’re gay so it should be no problem, right? Why I think hair dying is best left to professionals
and gays – Don’t Get Me Started!
The first few times we did it, it looked fine but due to certain stubborn areas of gray hair at my temples and the
fact that it wasn’t “permanent” color, it didn’t really cover the gray for more than ten minutes.
This was a problem as this is why I was dying my hair to begin with so the next time, I told him to really cake it on, making
it as thick as possible. It became apparent from this technique that while it was more successful at covering the gray hairs,
it also (how shall I put this?) it also “stained” shall we say, my scalp. That’s right, looking something
akin to the way that Eddie Munster looked, it was as if someone had taken a Sharpie pen and drawn in my hairline. No matter
how much scrubbing I did with the special “color off skin” solvent, the color remained. The lesson learned here
was two-fold, 1. Only dye my hair on Friday so my scalp had the weekend to fade a bit and 2. Baseball hats can truly be worn
with anything if you have to go out somewhere.
So this past Friday I had decided it was the time to try again. With a new type of semi (or
demi, whatever they’re calling it this week) hair color, I prepared my hair, the chair and my partner for the task ahead.
“Just pour it on” I instructed from the chair clutching the old towel around my shoulders. Then it was time to
wait to see the results. Well, it occurred to me (as I’ve always felt if a little is good, then a lot is better) that
instead of leaving it on for the fifteen to twenty minutes that I should instead leave it on for forty minutes.
As I leaned my head forward over the side of
the tub and began rinsing my hair, I could see the brownish/black water staining what had been my newly cleaned tub. After
several minutes with the blood rushing to my head and I was almost passing out, the water was still only light brown. I knew
I had to continue the rinse cycle but my arm and constitution was getting weaker and weaker. I yelled for my partner who began
to shove his hands through my hair, forcing water through it and squeezing my head to get the excess color off of my hair.
Finally, I could come up for air and as I towel dried my hair and was hanging the towel up to dry I noticed that my left hand
(that was going through my hair doing the scrubbing part of the rinsing while the right hand scooped water over my head) was
completely brown. That’s right, my left hand suddenly looked as though it was my hand that was being dyed, not my hair
at all. As my gaze went from my hand to the mirror, there it was. I pulled up my bangs back and there it was, color all over
my scalp. Oh, not just the Eddie Munster on the hairline this time but as I separated the hair on the top of my head, my scalp
actually resembled a leopard, filled with dye spots all over my scalp. As I scrubbed with the special solvent to get the color
off of my skin to no avail and my scalp got redder and redder, I just stopped what I was doing and accepted my fate. I was
now someone who had dyed hair AND a dyed scalp!
The up side to all of this is that my hair has never looked thicker but then again, my scalp was never the same color
of my hair before. And so I think there’s a product in there somewhere for someone who is an actual professional. For
those of us with thinning hair, if someone created a type of henna dye like they use for henna tattoos, then those of us with
thin hair could have much thicker looking hair because our scalp would be, in essence, dyed with this other product. I’m
not suggesting that if you have no hair or complete bald spots that this is a solution but for some extra depth for just thin
hair, I think it could work. Not in the hairline as much as on the top of your head.
Well as the weekend went on each day I would shampoo, rinse and look.
While the color looks good (though I’ve discovered that I have no idea if this is actually what my natural hair color
was or if I just look like a dyed hair old man) my scalp spots seem to have not faded one bit. Ugh. So I think maybe next
time, I shouldn’t rely on just the gay part but get a gay professional. Why I think hair dying is best left to professionals
and gays – Don’t Get Me Started!
What The Mainstream Gay Themed Movies Of The 1980ís and 1990ís Are Still Teaching Me
What The Mainstream
Gay Themed Movies Of The 1980’s and 1990’s Are Still Teaching Me – Don’t Get Me Started!
For awhile now I’ve been rethinking the
idea of adding the Logo network to my cable lineup. I so seldom find anything that I’m interested that’s playing
on that channel that it almost makes me feel as though if this is the gay channel for gay people and I don’t find it
interesting, then perhaps they’re coming to take my gay membership card away. But in a recent trip around the “guide”
on my cable box I discovered a movie I’d never heard of from the early 1990’s, “Our Sons” that was
playing on Logo. Featuring Julie Andrews as Hugh Grant’s mother and Ann-Margret as Zeljko Ivanek’s mother, the
story is about Zeljko dying of AIDS, Grant as his partner and how everyone learns something about themselves when Andrews
goes to bring Margret to her dying son who she had kicked out of the house at 17 for being, “one of those.” It’s
a melodrama to be sure but as I sat there on tissue number seven or eight, I couldn’t help but feel sad that we don’t
have these types of movies anymore and at the same time I thought about what the mainstream gay themed movies of the 1980’s
and 1990’s are still teaching me – Don’t Get Me Started!
I think it’s wonderful that there are such things as a gay cable channel and that there are
more movies made by gays about gays but to be honest most of them leave me disappointed. Either the scripts are awful and/or
the acting is worse and usually I’m just bummed that I gave up two hours of my life (well, let’s face it, thanks
to Tivo I can get through anything in under an hour now) but the point is that I’m almost always left feeling as though
the movie was less than what it should or could have been. So in watching this TV movie from 1991, I wondered why with all
its unforgiving TV underscore and Lifetime movie feeling I felt more about this than any of the more current movies I’ve
watched with gay themes. Sure you could say it was the star power but there’s something more, the scripts and the direction
are simply better and more thoughtful than the current trend of gay movies featuring more naked and sex but so much less when
it comes to story, script and acting.
on the radio I heard the song, “Making Love” now to most I’m sure this just sounds like some 80’s
tune but to me it brought back memories of seeing this movie on cable probably the year after it came out, 1982 and how much
it meant to a senior in high school about to go off and start his real life. Maybe it wasn’t a great movie but I think
that anything you experience in life and then later look back on is colored by a lens of where you were at the time both physically
and emotionally. To see Michael Ontkean leave Kate Jackson for Harry Hamlin only to find out that Hamlin was a slut and really
didn’t want all the settling down that Ontkean wanted was heady stuff for a kid of 17 trying to figure out if there
was a gay life for him other than what was pictured in the show biz world. Was there a gay life to be had beyond sailor hats
(worn by the Village People and Charles Nelson Reilly) and being an old queen?
A big budget movie like “Philadelphia” or a small television movie
like “An Early Frost” proved to mean so much to someone like me, someone who was growing up and not really knowing
what being gay was all about other than you are attracted to men and have a desire to sing show tunes. Okay, I’m kidding
(sort of) but what these movies did was not only show us the plight of those with AIDS and they’re family circumstances
or in the case of “Making Love” coming out, it gave you reason to pause and reflect on a story that was about
you and not about you all at the same time. Does that make sense? What I mean is that I don’t have HIV but I know people
who do and those who have died from it but I was a little too young to lose masses of friends as so many did in the 80’s
so while the storyline was mostly about AIDS awareness in these movies, for me it was seeing two men in a relationship and
how it affected them and the people around them. Sure in most of these cases there was no real “Brokeback Mountain”
sex on the screen, but you know what, I didn’t and don’t need it if a story is good and well
I’ve seen a few movies
in the last ten years or so that may come close to the aforementioned films (the first one that comes to mind is “Behind
The Red Door” starring Keifer Sutherland, Kyra Sedgwick and Stockard Channing – more of a study in relationships
that are unresolved and need to be resolved - excellent) but with more and more gay movie makers finding funding I’m
wondering why it’s only in the case of a bio-epic like “Milk” that current movies only come close to being
as powerful as the 80’s and 90’s movies? And so I put a call out to all movie makers, straight and gay, please
do us all a favor, start looking back into the gay psyche and discovering amazing stories to tell. Sure the stories of AIDS
and people struggling with it still exist and should still be in the forefront of our consciousness but just like the movies
from decades ago taught as well as entertained (in any of the aforementioned movies you’ll find the lessons that you
can’t catch HIV or AIDS from touch, etc.) we need good and melodramas about the plight of couples trying to get married,
gays who are getting up there in age and can no longer run with the White Party crowd, movies about garden variety gays trying
to find acceptance within themselves as well as their family and gays who try and want to be part of the gay Pride parade
but find that it doesn’t really represent them. There are thousands of stories to tell and yet the only ones I seem
to see are about the sensitive man from the south who moves to LA, discovers he’s really gay, has several soft-core
porn scenes and finally decides the man of his dreams was living next door.
We owe ourselves and the next generation more. I think we’ve all become to accustomed to allowing
reality television show us what being gay is all about but for my money, I’d rather a professional writer, cast and
director tell me a well thought out story as I sit in a theatre or on my couch with popcorn being entertained and taught.
As always a musical theatre reference comes to mind. In the musical, “South Pacific” Lt. Cable confronts his own
prejudice when he falls in love with a Polynesian woman, singing the song, “You’ve Got To Be Carefully Taught”
– “You’ve got to be taught to hate and fear. You’ve got to be taught, from year to year. It’s
got to be drummed in your dear little ears, you’ve got to be carefully taught…You’ve got to be taught before
it’s too late, before you are six or seven or eight. To hate all the people you’re relatives hate, you’ve
got to be carefully taught.” Well, we need to be teaching tolerance, understanding and love so I’m hoping some
movie maker somewhere does it soon so that the gay themed movies of the 80’s and 90’s won’t be all we and
future generations have to look back on to be entertained and educated. What the mainstream gay themed movies of the 1980’s
and 1990’s are still teaching me – Don’t Get Me Started!
I’m Afraid I’m
Not As Interesting As I Once Was – Don’t Get Me Started!
As the years pass I become acutely aware of the reaction of people I’m talking with (whether
it be professionally or personally). There was a time I used to tell everyone that I should be a professional party guest.
I was convinced that I would be the perfect “plus one” at any event. I can hold my own on most topics (sports
of course not included), listen when needed and in the witty comeback and double entendre department I was a clear leader.
But as time wears on I notice that what was once amusement has turned into something else. As I tell the story of my meeting
with and how I offended Army Archerd or retell the story of a cast member going on stage with a bra hanging off the front
of her costume for the Before The Parade number in Hello Dolly, I’m more and more aware that while there’s a hint
of a smile on their faces, behind their eyes are a dull sort of look. A look that makes me think that they’re making
their grocery list or wondering when I’m going to finish or how they can excuse themselves instead of listening to or
being interested in what I’m saying. I’m afraid I’m not as interesting as I once was – Don’t
Get Me Started!
What most people
don’t know is that being “the life of the party” is a pretty lonely existence. As I recently said to a friend
of mine, “Gays may laugh with the witty guy but they always go home with the pretty one.” The conversation we
were having was the “what if we were single again” conversation. After being with my partner for the past twenty-one
years I don’t think that I could ever go out and be “on the market” again. Now, I’m sure if I HAD
to that I would but I don’t think I’d be very good at it and I don’t think I’d be very successful
at it. That said, on a recent adventure out to a gay event I found myself talking to a couple of guys in their early twenties
who had been a couple for six months. They were in love and about the dullest gays you’d ever want to meet. As I stood
there trying desperately not to keep drinking until I passed out, the conversation went from one mind dulling topic to another.
I threw out my first double entendre – no response. Next a witty comment about what someone was wearing – nothing.
Finally a reference to hating the gym – they loved working out and thought it was the greatest thing in the world and
didn’t understand why I wouldn’t like it – sip, sip, gulp, gulp, “Oh waiter – another and yes,
a double, thanks.”
understand that what I wrote on my website the first day I created it (that I’m an acquired taste, you know, like Tab
Cola) is true but the more I’m around people the more I’m starting to think that I may be no one’s taste.
Thank God for the man of my dreams who I can still make laugh and arouse but the more I’m around people the more I find
that I feel like the proverbial cheese that stood alone. I think what I say is funny and interesting but I’m thinking
that somewhere along the line I’ve become Tigger (“the wonderful thing about Tiggers is I’m the only one”).
admit that my references are oft times obscure or from a few decades ago. I admit that I always speak in analogies (maybe
it’s from years of teaching kids, trying to get them to visualize what I was saying or perhaps it’s simply that
it’s the only way I can understand most things myself). But as time goes on I’m just afraid I’m becoming
the guy in the nursing home that wants to tell you a story. You know the one, in the wheelchair, smelling a little funny and
going on for twenty minutes telling a story that could have been told in five minutes (Are you listening Mr. Tarantino with
that Inglorious Basterds that was waaaay too long?).
Everyone has at least one thing that they’re good at and they know it. My one thing was being a witty conversationalist
but as time wears on I find that not only has my audience seemed to have died off but that my act isn’t drawing the
crowds it once did. I assure you it isn’t that my references are that old but they also no longer rise like
champagne bubbles that tickle the nose and senses either (yet another analogy). I don’t know, maybe it’s a slump
like a major league pitcher, or maybe it’s time to get a wheel chair and stop showering. I’m afraid I’m
not as interesting as I once was – Don’t Get Me Started!
Learning To Accept
Your Own Mental Illness – Don’t Get Me Started!
Have no fear, I have not suddenly completely lost my own mind and now believe that I’m a clinical
psychologist or anything. In recent talks with some pals and my own introspection I discovered that no matter how much you
think someone else has it all together, they don’t. And often times (surprisingly enough) they think you’re the
one who has it all together and you don’t. So just lately I’ve started a new journey, one that will allow me to
understand my own mental issues. (Well, anyone who knows me knows that it won’t be so much a “journey” as
it’ll be a trip around the block.) Learning to accept your own mental illness – Don’t Get Me Started!
You must forgive my usual over the top dramatics
on using the words, “mental illness” as I most likely wouldn’t get a diagnosis from a licensed doctor that
I’m mentally ill (I don’t think I would anyway). I guess what I’m talking about more than anything is the
crap that we put ourselves through and understanding why we do it. And why we sometimes can’t seem to help ourselves
in repeating patterns in our lives that we know are no good for us at all. I’ve always prided myself on not doing what
I call, “playing the victim” if I screw something up in a relationship or my checking account I accept the responsibility
for what I’ve done and try to fix it to the best of my ability. But lately when I listen to people talk there seems
to have been a monster shift to everyone I know thinking that everything else and everyone else is the problem but them. “My
spouse doesn’t understand me”, “my friends only want to talk about their problems”, etc., etc. The
economy, the President, the congress, Kayne West, the pastor, everyone is responsible for something that’s making the
person’s life miserable when the old cliché is true, only you can choose how you react to something. No one pointed
a gun to your head, making you an actual victim, you’re choosing to allow the actions of others dictate your feelings
and because you don’t want to accept responsibility, it’s easier to blame someone else. (Trust me, as hard as
I try to not do it, I do this too.)
mental illness is that in my mind everyone else’s life and time is more important than mine. So I go about my days and
nights listening to people go on and on about their own lives and problems, fixing things that aren’t even my area to
fix and after about a seven or eight week cycle of this I blow up wondering why no one has asked me how my day was or why
no one is fixing anything for me. (Ouch, that sounds awful “victimy” doesn’t it?) I choose to not express
my feelings in words but more in the most silent silence and death ray stares that emanate from my eyes to anyone within a
six mile radius. And why you may ask do I think everyone’s life and time is more important than my own? I’d like
to think the reason for this is because my family is like the Kennedys who seem to each have given of themselves in service
to their fellow man but I know this is not the case, the reason is because I have a curse that has been handed down for generations
in my family, the curse of needing to be liked by everyone above all else. I’ll admit that getting beaten up in grade
school and being less than unpopular in high school has had a lot to do with it but when I look at my parents and how they
give so much of themselves to their friends and family (at the cost of their own mental stability at times) I realize that
the old cliché is so true, “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
My mother has a huge medical book that allows you to peruse
the different symptoms, diagnose your possible disease or ailment and then it gives you info on how to fix it. The how to
fix it portion of each illness in the book reads, “What shall be done?” So when I look at what I’ve written
in this blog I wonder “what shall be done” about my own mental illness? You see the problem is that growing up
I used to hear, “if you admit you have a problem, that’s the first step.” But for me I always felt that
admitting the problem is the only step I need to take. I’ve always been like, “Look at me, I know I’m
fucked up emotionally. Isn’t it brave and wonderful of me to recognize it? What? Do something about it? Hell no, I just
admitted it, isn’t that enough? Aren’t we done here?” But such is not the case, I get it. I have to learn
to make better choices, tell people “no” and I’m sure a thousand other things. But having to fix myself
is the least fun thing in the world to me. I know people who revel in it, reading every self-help book that comes along but
for me there’s a real part of me that thinks, “Well, I’m sorta fucked up but I’m not killing anyone
or hurting anyone else so since I’m used to all these demons (and all their friends that they’ve attracted over
the years), why not just buy a larger imaginary backpack and continue to lug them all around with me wherever I go?”
Because it’s not healthy, right?
so I will hit the “reset” button on myself, trying to begin a new outlook, change some of my behaviors, “work
on myself” and for your sake as well as mine, let’s just hope I’m not writing this same blog again seven
weeks from now, right? The other thing I’ll try to do is be more tolerant of other people’s mental illness too.
After all, that’s what friends are for, right? Learning to accept your own mental illness – Don’t Get Me
Imagine If We Normal Folk Could Get Away With Using Celebrity Excuses (Kanye West)
Imagine If We Normal
Folk Could Get Away With Using Celebrity Excuses (Kanye West) – Don’t Get Me Started!
Well now I have officially heard it all. Apparently on Jay Leno,
Kanye West gave the excuse that his behavior of jumping on the stage, stealing the mic (and acceptance speech time) away from
Taylor Swift to shout about Beyonce was due to his mother’s death…TWO YEARS AGO!!! What Beyonce, Taylor Swift
and his mother’s death all have to do with one another I’m sure we’ll never know but as I listen to celebrity
after celebrity explain away their bad or stupid behavior with excuses it makes me kind of jealous that we can’t use
these excuses in our everyday lives. Imagine if we normal folk could get away with using celebrity excuses (Kanye West) –
Don’t Get Me Started!
first thing that always gets me is how so many celebrities are caught driving drunk. Never mind that they always seem to get
off with six hours of community service while normal folk do prison time (which they should all do and they should never be
allowed to drive again, period), the question I always have is why they’re driving in the first place? They’re
going to a major Hollywood event that they spent hundreds of thousands of dollars to get ready for, what do they think they’re
saving some money by not hiring a car for the night? And then once they do get caught the excuse list they give is something
that makes about as much sense as the moral majority thinking they’re still the majority. I got stopped last night for
speeding (not drinking and driving) but you didn’t hear me calling anyone a Nazi and getting away with it, are you listening
Mel Gibson? Although I must say I always had wished I had the stomach to become an alcoholic. When you’re an alcoholic
you can say and do whatever you want and then everyone behind you sort of whispers to one another, “Poor Scott, he was
always so wonderful and nice to everyone until the <they soften their tone a little more> alcohol.”
Celebrity “complete exhaustion” –
this one kills me. Celebrities are the most pamper lot in the world. Try being on a movie set for one day and you’ll
see that they’re almost carried like a chihuahua from one thing to the next with several people tagging behind them
to do everything but chew their food for them. What are they so “exhausted” about? Live one
day in my shoes you little babies and then you’ll get a sense of complete exhaustion. However I do think that we should
all be afforded one “complete exhaustion” day from our jobs. You could only use the excuse once but how great
would it be to call up and say, “I can’t come in today, I have complete exhaustion”?
Jesus when things are good and childhood trauma when things
go bad. When they win awards, whether it be a music award and they’re a rapper who sings about fucking your brother
and sucking your mother they thank Jesus. If they behave badly, they blame their childhood (or in Kanye West’s case
with his recent bad behavior, his mother’s death). So thank you Jesus for the extra hits to my website this week and
as far as me yelling at other drivers in traffic, it’s because of that piece of Styrofoam cup I almost swallowed when
I was eight.
I get that celebrities
and politicians get to live by different rules because they’re public figures. And while we’re on that subject,
politicians make up just as many excuses as celebrities. The Senator Craigs of the world who are tapping their foot to get
sex from men in the next stall who suddenly blame their “wide stance” for what they were doing claiming that they
weren’t looking for sex at all to Senator Wilson’s outburst at Obama where he apologized but then later made excuses
for his behavior, said he wouldn’t apologize anymore and then picked up $700,000 in campaign contributions for his “bad
behavior” politicians use just as many excuses as celebrities.
So let’s none of us take responsibility for any of our
actions, shall we? Let’s all blame things from two years ago for our bad behavior, let’s all run amok with our
sunglasses on acting like complete assholes and blame everyone else for everything we’ve done wrong. And when all else
fails, say you were abused as a child. You can do almost anything in this world if you claim to have been abused as a child.
That’s right from alcoholism to killing someone it’s all justified if you were abused as a child (or are a celebrity
or politician). Imagine if we normal folk could get away with using celebrity excuses (Kanye West) – Don’t Get
Project Runway Season 6ís Move To Los Angeles Has Hurt The Show
Project Runway Season
6’s Move To Los Angeles Has Hurt The Show – Don’t Get Me Started!
Before I start to get all the nasty-gram emails, let me say that
for those who read my blog they know that having been the “Ultimate Fan Blogger” for season 3 of Project Runway
with my blogs appearing on Bravotv.com, I’m a huge fan of the show. So when they finally worked through all the legal
issues and moved the show to Lifetime (Television for women and gays – the “and gays” part is just implied
in the title of the network) of course I was going to tune my Tivo to record every episode. But now that I’ve been watching
for a few weeks I have to say that Project Runway Season 6’s move to Los Angeles has hurt the show – Don’t
Get Me Started!
You would have thought
that the producers of Runway could have learned taking a show about fashion and sending it to Los Angeles was a bad idea from
when Tyra Banks tried it with America’s Next Top Model but perhaps they thought they could overcome what Tyra’s
show could not. Well, I’m here to tell them that they’re wrong. Now I’m no snob, I like Los Angeles but
it can’t compare to being the fashion capital of the US against the likes of the city that never sleeps, New York. It
just can’t. That’s not an opinion, those are the facts kids so when Runway announced the LA move I was a bit dubious
of the idea and yet at the same time did my best to keep an open mind but as I watch the episodes I see that they need to
move season 7 (if there is one) back to its natural habitat of New York.
Oddly enough, the first thing I noticed about the show’s LA makeover was that Tim Gunn’s
hair went from Lagerfeld white to a blond with darker blond low-lights. That’s right, Tim Gunn went Hollywood and as
with most things, it just seems to not suit him at all – nor does the tan he’s sporting. I don’t know, it
just seems that in fashion you can normally only trust the pale people who only get light from their sewing machines. The
too tan folk in fashion always seem a bit suspicious and not “real” designers. But Tim’s makeover isn’t
the only thing that seems to have changed a bit. Sure they have a Mood fabric store in LA like they do in New York but the
laid back California approach seems to not appeal to the real heavy hitters of fashion when it comes to the guest judges.
And speaking of the judges, where
is Michael Kors? Two or three weeks he has not been present which one can only assume is due to the fact that he needs to
be at his studio which is in New York and not LA (another argument for the show being produced in New York). Meanwhile, last
week was a real shocker. In the past Michael Kors and Nina Garcia were never gone at the same time. But on this past week’s
episode there were three judges with Heidi and I couldn’t tell you who any of them were. There was the poor man who
had his fake blond extensions in a hairstyle that was way too young for his age with a face that looks as if it’s one
of the faces you pick out at a plastic surgeon’s office at Beverly Hills. Have you ever noticed that men who have a
lot of plastic surgery seem to always end up looking alike? It’s as if there are four stock faces you can get when you
have plastic surgery and you just choose one of the looks from the wall. At any rate, this male designer’s comments
were about as generic as his face and the rest of his look. The other two women judges were non-descript as well. And so the
whole thing left me feeling that if Nina and Michael can’t even be interested to be there then why should we all be
interested in watching? I trust what Nina Garcia and Michael Kors have to say (most of the time) but don’t give me three
people I’ve never heard of and ask me to be interested in their thoughts on fashion. If they’re going to do this
then they should at least show some of the work that these designers have done or take a few moments to properly introduce
the audience (and the contestants who seemed as perplexed as I) as to who these people are and how they have the credentials
to be a judge on the show.
than anything, anyone who has ever been in New York and then LA realizes that the whole pace of the two towns is very different.
Perhaps one isn’t better than the other but the point is that with this type of show, I’d prefer they be in the
fast paced heart of fashion (NYC) instead of one of the languid arms (LA). I want to take those paddles they use to restart
someone’s heart to somehow restart the beat of the show and this includes the designers, judges and hosts. In the past
we’ve had the outlandish of personality as well as design in the designers but this season seems to be all about the
middle of the pack, no front runners in design or personality. And the personalities that used to be in the form of the judges
and hosts are lacking too. No Michael or Nina, Heidi seems as though she’s phoning her performance in and Tim Gunn even
admitted last week (a little sheepishly) that he’s become a cliché of himself, “I have to say the line.
You need to go clean up your work station.” Sounding as if he was embarrassed that his comments have been reduced to
mere catch phrases similar to a, “What you talkin’ about Willis?”
So while I’ve tried to reserve my judgment on the show, I’m afraid
the time has come to speak. Now that the legal woes have been handled, let’s get through this season the best we can
and then let’s pack everything up in a steamer trunk and take the show back home where it belongs, New York, shall we?
If they don’t get back on track soon I’m afraid they’ll lose their audience to shows like Isaac Mizrahi’s
The Fashion Show on Bravo which has a real designer hosting the show as well as coaching the contestants and focusing on sale-ability
of designs. And let’s face it, at the end of the day would you rather put a show about fashion in the hands of gays
like Mizrahi and Andy Cohen (the highest profile gay, gay, gayer than gay television executive running Bravo) or Heidi Klum
and a network filled with Valerie Bertinelli movies from the 1990’s? Project Runway Season 6’s move to Los Angeles
has hurt the show – Don’t Get Me Started!
Beware Of Store Catalogs
Telling You What To Wear – Don’t Get Me Started!
Okay, so I like to look at the big glossy (or matte finish as that’s what appears to be “in”
this season) catalogs that come each season in the mail to show me the latest designer wares and the stores where I can get
the items and how much it’s going to cost to wear them. Now while I love me some Barney’s New York, when the men’s
version of their fall catalog appeared in my mailbox I was pretty darned excited I don’t mind telling you but within
two flips of the pages I discovered what I always seem to discover, what they’re selling I won’t be buying. Beware
of store catalogs telling you what to wear – Don’t Get Me Started!
In the case of the Barney’s men’s catalog for fall
apparently if everything in your closet isn’t plaid then you apparently should just stay home. I’ve never seen
so many different plaids and yet no matter how they matched the plaids to the pants, suits and other plaid items I discovered
that I’m not a plaid wearing person. The only time I was even slightly interested in plaid was when the Bay City Rollers
were around shouting about S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y, Night! (And that was strictly a Tiger Beat crush sort of thing on the boys in
the band and not so much the plaid fabric) I’ll admit I went along with the argyle for the past couple of seasons but
this time I’ve decided to sit out the plaid invasion.
You see, as with most things, I seem to have a problem with authority. That’s right, I remember
that under my cap and gown for my high school graduation I was wearing a black polo shirt (collar up of course), gun metal
shiny parachute pants (with all the zipper pockets that the law would allow) and a pair of Van’s high-top sneakers that
were black and white checkered. I wore that because I thought it looked cool and because I thought it looked good on me. Now
I understand that there are a lot of misguided people out there who think something looks good on them and it doesn’t
(are you listening chubby girls with the crop tops and your abdomen spilling out over the pants, framed by the line of your
rolled over waistband and the bottom of your crop top?) but on the whole I think if you take some time in front of a mirror
you’ll discover what looks good on you and what doesn’t. I’ve never been someone who just bought what the
mannequin was wearing because usually the mannequin’s proportions are so bizarre that no one could look good wearing
what the mannequin is wearing. Also, when dressing I say you have to “dare to be different” at least a little
bit. Sure you can wear khakis every day and a blue shirt but there’s something about wearing that green shirt with the
purple tie that will show your co-workers you’re not working at Blockbuster and that you’re confident about yourself
and what you wear.
as guilty as the next guy of basically wearing a uniform every day even though my office doesn’t require one. I wear
the same things day after day and just hope that no one notices, that perhaps they don’t know that it’s Tuesday
so I have the navy pants on again. But I suspect that when you’re a gay people do notice and wonder why you’re
not living up to the gay stereotype and fashion powers that are no doubt given to gays at birth. But like the people who wear
ratty flannel pants out in public, they use the “comfortable” defense but mine is the “it’s easy”
defense and neither one should be allowed. I need to start making more of an effort in my day to day dressing but what I can
tell you is that even though I get that I need to dress better, “better” isn’t always what the fashionistas
or retail stores are telling me to wear in their latest catalog. Nope, sometimes you DO have to dare to be different. To wear
what you know looks good on you but most importantly, find clothes that fit your body and your personality. Beware
of store catalogs telling you what to wear – Don’t Get Me Started!
In Spite Of Everything
I Still Believe… - Don’t Get Me Started!
It’s the eighth anniversary of 9/11 and while I think I’m supposed to be remembering all
of those who lost their lives that day (and I certainly remember exactly where I was at the time on that day). I find my thoughts
going to other places today and while some of those thoughts are quite negative, as Anne Frank said, “In spite of everything,
I still believe…” – Don’t Get Me Started!
Should I be ashamed that I didn’t really think about this being the anniversary of the attack
the moment I woke up? That it took the morning news to remind me? I don’t think so. There’s something about getting
on with life that I think is truly important after tragedy. Now that’s not to say that I think we should forget it,
by all means I wouldn’t be a Jew unless somewhere in me I wasn’t programmed to reflect often on the Holocaust,
the morons who say it never happened and as most survivors reminded us for years after the war, “Never Forget.”
I’ll never forget the holocaust or 9/11 but I also won’t carry it on me like a kids’ backpack that has been
overstuffed with a load far too heavy for them to carry either.
When I got to my office, the gentleman who comes once a week was cleaning the office and as we talked
about 9/11 he told me about his struggle to become an American citizen, that it had taken twenty years of red tape for him
to finally a few weeks ago, be allowed to take the test and become an American citizen (he’s only waiting for the swear
in ceremony at this point). He told me that one of the questions on the test was what happened on 9/11? I guess it’s
good to make sure that people becoming citizens understand that we as a country have been under attack (by outside forces
as well as some internal morons). He also told me that as he talked about the test with his different clients he was a little
surprised that new citizens seem to know more about our country than those of us who were born here. I wasn’t surprised.
The same thing happened when my best friend of a lifetime converted to Judaism, she was more Jewish than I’ve ever been
in my life (and took great delight in constantly reminding me of how much more she knew than me). But it is sad that the people
becoming citizens are required to know more than we know. Maybe we as American citizens need to take a test every once in
awhile to make sure we know about our own country? Maybe we should care more about that then whether Jon Gosselin was dumped
or whether or not Ellen Degeneres will be a good judge on Idol?
And then I started my computer and went to see what news was happening in the world from my Google
homepage. I came across a “Breaking Story” about the South African runner who they now say has been tested to
find out if she is intersex (having both male and female genitalia) and if she is no one knowing what they’ll “do”
with her, then my eye went to a story about a British code breaker in World War II who basically changed the way people break
codes, including building a machine that could break codes which eventually became the ground floor of the computer I’m
typing on now. In the early 1950’s he was convicted of homosexual activity. He was given the choice of imprisonment
or castration. He chose to be castrated and killed himself two years later. What a brilliant mind that was destroyed by hate
and lack of people understanding homosexuality. Some self professed computer geeks went about having a petition signed to
have the British government offer a public apology posthumously, which they have now done.
So with those who believe the enemy is always outside their countries
borders (and in the case of 9/11, I believe they were both inside and outside our borders) or the way backward thinking can
destroy one of your own countrymen (as with the story of Alan Turning, the World War II code breaker in England) I have to
wonder if we should all take some sort of version of the Hippocratic oath and promise one another to “do no harm.”
Let’s face it, I may be disturbed by the fact that as a gay man I’m considered a second class citizen in the eyes
of my own country’s laws that continually talks about equality for all men but at the same time, I guess I also need
to be thankful that no one is castrating me, that the world has gotten a little smarter. And so as I read all the negative
news and things that have happened I’m going to also stop for a moment today and try to renew my enthusiasm for life
and the people in it. In spite of everything, I still believe…Don’t Get Me Started!
The more I live the more I realize that homosexuals are exactly what the stereotypes portray and at the same time
have nothing to do with the homosexual stereotype. How can this be true? Because the more homosexuals become comfortable with
who they are and society does too, what you discover is that just like every other person on this planet, no two are alike
but sometimes they have a lot of similarities with the group they associate with the most. So, in an effort to break through
what has long been a problem for us gays of being seen only as boa wearing, float riding, queens all the while defining ourselves
with such limited views and terminology such as “Twinks” (boys), “Bears” (furry bigger men), etc.
perhaps it’s time for us all to break through a bunch of false categories and become real life homosexuals – Don’t
Get Me Started!
a story yesterday stating, “Gay Latino Americans Are Coming Of Age” now while some may applaud CNN for carrying
this story, once I began to read the article about how Perez Hilton is a Latino Pioneer I threw up in my mouth a little and
stopped reading. Sure Perez Hilton gets a lot of press but please, let’s not for one minute forget how he got to where
he is today. Perez Hilton began as an actor who wasn’t good enough to get any work, started outing gay actors who were
working and then advanced to drawing cumshots on celebrities on a website where every other bitter non-celebrity could laugh
together at someone that they could and would never be, someone with a real career. Kudos to him for continuing to push the
envelope, his waistline and the color anyone’s hair should be in order to create a niche for himself that now allows
him to be a sorta famous person but at what expense to the gay and Latino communities? (By the way he changed his name to
sound more Hollywood and less Latino from Mario Lavandeira, Jr. to Perez Hilton so I’m sure the Latino community isn’t
doing back flips of excitement about him being considered a “Latino Pioneer” either.) Amazingly enough, Perez
Hilton is like a cockroach who will not die, only the other day he was on the Tyra Banks show. She had him on to dispel some
of the crap written about her as she decided to go sans weave to show her real hair. In the segment with Hilton she asked
him if he would please not go after children of celebrities who were under 18 years of age. Hilton balked originally but after
much back and forth, Tyra made her deal with the devil that he would stop drawing on, making fun of and exploiting celebrity
children for six months if Tyra would put him on an episode of America’s Next Top Model. This reprehensible human being
does not represent the gay community in any way. Oh sure, he’s gay but we’d gladly trade him and Lance Bass in
for Cagney and Lacey! (To see my vblog about why I don’t want Perez Hilton to be the face of gay America, click here
enough about Hilton and on to the issue at hand. I’m tired of hearing about “Downlow Black Gays” or “Latino
Gays Coming of Age” – isn’t it time that we all realize that gays are just as dull and/or as fascinating
as straights and while we can also be defined by our religious and ethnic backgrounds as well as our sexuality, the gays who
are really breaking ground are the real life homosexuals who every day live their lives with dignity and honor. They go to
work, they help in their community and often times they don’t even have a rainbow flag in front of their house. (Can
you imagine???) I’ve always considered myself a “garden variety gay” as I’m not all that flashy (except
when I need to be), I’ve been with the same man in a monogamous relationship forever and I don’t try to hide nor
flaunt my gayness at work or in most social situations. I prefer to be myself as opposed to someone who has a pink triangle
on his computer monitor at work and rubber bracelet around my wrist that’s engraved with “equality now.”
If you need those things to feel better about yourself then by all means have at it but more and more there are more of me
out there than you (And thank GOD!). There are a lot of us gays who have discovered that we don’t have to be a stereotype
just because we’re gay, we don’t have to wear assless leather chaps or any of the other thousands of perceptions
that people people themselves have about the homosexual lifestyle. We can be ourselves and my hope for those gays out there
like the flamboyant Hilton, downlow gays, etc. is that they would spend more time working on accepting themselves so that
they would be more enjoyable to be around and therefore would gain much more acceptance for themselves and by others. Enough
of the affected lisping, “Girl, no you didn’t” type of persona, try being yourself for a little bit boys
and girls and I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised. So here’s my message to all gays, “Stop being what
you think gay is and be a real life homosexual (for all our sakes).” Real life homosexuals – Don’t Get Me
How Long Before It The Maps To The Movie Stars Homes Become Maps To The Foreclosed Homes?
How Long Before It
The Maps To The Movie Stars Homes Become Maps To The Foreclosed Homes? – Don’t Get Me Started!
The world has changed since I was young. I’m
soon to be forty-five and while many my age prefer to act and think that they’re twenty-two, I am not one of them. I
realize that I’ve begun to look at the world through an older set of eyes that are not so much cynical as they are nostalgic
for a simpler time when I was younger. I’m sure it didn’t seem like a simpler time to my parents or the adults
then but boy what I would give for a Saturday night of staying up late to watch the Carol Burnett show and Saturday Night
Live with the “real” cast (Gilda Radner, John Belushi, Jane Curtain, etc.). So as I was driving around the other
day here in Vegas I noticed a foreclosure sign on a house that also said, “Featured on Home Closure Tours” and
I began to get really sad. Sure about the people who lost their home but more about the fact that I remember going to LA every
year on vacation when I was little and seeing the people on the street corners selling maps to the movie stars homes in case
you wanted to drive by and see where Lucy lived. Now our street corners are filled with different people, selling themselves
more than a product but how long is it before the maps to the movie stars homes become the maps to the foreclosed homes? –
Don’t Get Me Started!
really understood the people who were hired to stand on corners to spin signs but in the age where so many were losing their
jobs and the youth seem apathetic to being a part of the country other than becoming an instant hit on American Idol, I resigned
myself to the fact that it gave someone a job. But recently here in Vegas the corners are less and less filled with people
spinning signs and more people with pieces of cardboard from a box or something with scrawled lettering about being out of
work, needing money and/or a job. I grew up in Arizona and although I don’t know that you would call it Beverly Hills
it certainly wasn’t the slums. The street corners were never filled with people who camped out all day spinning signs
or asking for cash, they were just the place you stopped before you crossed the street to get to the other corner and then
go on your way. Now the street corner has become a much more insidious place than the corners you used to see on Barretta
where the prostitutes hung out. At least that only seemed to be in one section of town and had a cute quirky character like,
“Huggy Bear” maintain law and order. Now every corner of every street USA is a place many call home and ask for
a handout. When did this happen? It seems as though it happened so fast. It’s not like 9/11 or the moon landing where
you can remember exactly what moment on what day it happened, it progressed over time but it’s progressing at the rate
of cancer that can’t be cured it seems.
I have to admit that when I’m stopped at a light and the person walks through the cars with their cardboard
sign looking for cash, I do what we were taught to do in school. Don’t make eye contact or the teacher will call on
you. I don’t make eye contact, I check email on my phone or act as if I’m adjusting something in my car that couldn’t
possibly wait another moment and should most definitely take precedence over the person begging at my car window. How can
I do that? How can I ignore another human being or their plight? I find myself truly disappointed in myself at these times.
Maybe that’s why I gave the guy at the gas station twenty dollars when he told me he couldn’t get his disability
from Arizona and just needed something to eat to keep his insulin in check because he suffered from Diabetes and hadn’t
eaten in days. Maybe that’s why I started looking at giving to charities that feed people as opposed to take care of
equal rights for gays or a holocaust museum. The others are important but how can you put the holocaust of the 1940’s
over someone who lived through it who is starving right this minute? I wonder how these charities survive in this day and
age. It can’t be easy to be the holocaust museum or some of the other more than worthwhile charities when people are
suffering to just have food and shelter. Yet, Jerry Lewis still managed to raise his staggering amount of cash so I guess
it’s not hurting every charity.
I know that it’s a good thing that realtors are putting together these tours of foreclosed homes. It helps people find
great deals on houses, it helps increase the property value in the neighborhood because there’s someone living next
door actually caring for the house instead of letting the lawn die, losing all curb appeal. (In Arizona I read that the state
is paying to spray paint lawns of foreclosed homes green so that property values won’t suffer from dried up dead lawns
– not sure that’s a solution as it costs something like $600 a house and needs to be redone often but what do
As someone once said to
me, I don’t have the answers, I only have the questions. But I can’t help remembering sitting in the back seat
of my parents car as we drove past the street corners with the people selling maps to the movie stars homes. How glamorous
I thought, to know where all of the movie stars live. I wonder how my generation’s kids will feel about what they see
from the backseat of their parents’ cars as they drive and see the street corners filled with something very different
than maps to the movie stars homes. How long is it before the maps to the movie stars homes become the maps to the foreclosed
homes? – Don’t Get Me Started!
How Many People Know Pieces Of The Puzzle That Are You?
How Many People Know
Pieces Of The Puzzle That Are You? – Don’t Get Me Started!
The first time I saw the documentary Grey Gardens was about two years ago
or so. I joined it all ready about five or ten minutes in progress but I remember not being able to look away from the television
screen the entire time it was on. And after the film was over I sat there alone in my home, not speaking, not moving, not
watching any more television, just sitting there…thinking. The existence of the Beales couldn’t be any further
from me or anything I’ve ever experienced but there was something about these wonderfully damaged people living in squalor
that made me begin to reflect on my own life. So the other morning when I turned on the television and caught the last twenty
minutes of the HBO movie Grey Gardens starring Jessica Lange and Drew Barrymore, I found that odd sense of inward reflection
starting all over again. It stayed with me as I went to get my coffee and as the women behind the Starbucks counter greeted
me I began to wonder, how many people know pieces of the puzzle that are you? – Don’t Get Me Started!
Try to follow me for a moment. When you watch
Grey Gardens you see a mother and daughter who seem to know everything about one another. Using one another’s weaknesses
to bind them together and at the same time using one another strengths to lean on one another you realize that although you
would think that they knew everything about one another and one couldn’t exist without the other, when Edie Sr. passed
away, Edie Jr. began a life of performing cabaret acts, travel and moved on from Grey Gardens (something that when you watch
either movie, you think would be completely impossible for her). So although the two women were inextricably connected there
had to be some things that even these women didn’t know about one another. Whether it was dreams or fears, who knows
but that’s when I began to think about the simple pieces of my life that certain people know about and others do not.
The women at Starbucks know exactly how I like my coffee and yet my partner of twenty-one years would have no idea. It’s
a small thing but once you start in this vein of thinking, I think you’ll be surprised to find out just how complex
you are and how interesting it is that you share certain pieces of the puzzle that is you with certain people but only you
can see the picture that is on the front of the box, the whole puzzle that creates the picture that is you.
I wasn’t a puzzle fanatic when I was little
but I did my fair share of puzzles. I remember that some people built the puzzle from the outside in and others started on
major portions or pictures at the center of the puzzle and then built the puzzle from the inside out. I would assemble all
of the outside pieces and then carefully studying the box top (which I would prop up so that I could see it better) I would
begin to construct the inside, the picture within the frame so to speak. The older I get I realize that I’ve continued
on that same path in my life too. I have always constructed who I wanted to be from the outside in and when I did theatre
I did the same thing. I worked on the character’s physicality before I thought about the emotional state of the character
(perhaps this is why I’m not a big name today in theatre). The interesting part to me is that I don’t think I’ll
ever achieve the picture that I want to see on the box top of the puzzle that is my life and even though it may look to others
as though I have the puzzle put together perfectly, to me there will always be a few pieces that don’t fit quite right
or have an edge peeled up a bit.
like most things in my life, I’ve taken this puzzle analogy too far. But what I wanted to do was to intrigue you to
think about the different parts of your life (puzzle pieces) you share with certain people and not with others. The people
at work see one side of you but you may not share it all (nor should you probably). The same goes with friends, right? I mean
just like I’m learning to separate certain people from certain information on Facebook, the same can be said of my life.
I have the friends who are strictly fluff, they’re the ones I go out with and we laugh and laugh and laugh and then
I have the friends with whom I share deep life thoughts with and still there is another group of acquaintances that I see
at other friends’ events and we’re cordial but they see only a very small portion of me. You can say the same
of certain family members or the dry cleaner for that matter. Think about all the different people you come in contact with
and the different pieces of the puzzle that are you that they know or hold onto. Maybe that’s why life is so precious?
Because no matter how well you know someone, you don’t know everything about them. You can’t hold someone else’s
puzzle box with all the pieces in it just waiting to be reassembled; they take at least a few pieces of their puzzle with
them to the grave. And so true do we take the pieces of the person’s puzzle we know and we carry them with us like precious
trinkets we collected when we were kids, a collection that may seem like junk in an old cigar box to someone else but to us,
they are glorious treasures in a treasure box. How Many People Know Pieces Of The Puzzle That Are You? – Don’t
Get Me Started!
At Least Ten Reasons I'll Never Be A Male Prostitute - Forty-Something Gay, ep66
66 - At Least Ten Reasons I Will Never Be A Male Prostitute! I began writing blogs in 2006 and recently thought it might be
fun to take some of the written blogs and turn them into VLogs so here’s the first one. I’m sure there are plenty
of reasons why I wouldn’t make a good male prostitute but here are at least ten! Please let me know your thoughts!
I have always known that my mind is filled with such things as every lyric to Funny Girl as opposed
to the proper interest rate for stocks and bonds or how to plan my retirement (which I can’t even contemplate having
one so I guess I’m not ever going to retire). My mind is constantly filled with information that is of no use to anyone
really. And even my references that I use in conversation people sometimes have to think about three or four times because
they don’t remember the time when Bobby Brady took baked beans in a flashlight to the Indian boy in the Grand Canyon
(which I credit as being the original Brokeback Mountain but perhaps that’s just me). At any given point on any given
day there is so much I don’t understand that it boggles my mind. So today I thought I’d make a list of things
that are beyond my comprehension. Things I don’t understand – Don’t Get Me Started!
I don’t understand how you can be a “personality”
(Jon Gosselin are you listening?) and yet have no personality.
I don’t understand how anyone can take anything that Rush Limbaugh says and think it’s
more than an old white guy in a desperate attempt to garner attention rather than someone educated trying to educate or inform.
I don’t understand why teachers are paid
so crappy and yet they’re the first ones who get blamed when kids are stupid. Seems to me the parents are the stupid
ones for not taking an active part in nurturing and teaching their children, pawning it off on teachers. Just as stupid is
our government for not sending better funding for the people shaping the generation to come so that it attracts a higher level
of teacher but then again, maybe it’s just me.
I don’t understand how anyone could have thought The Blair Witch Project was “brilliant.”
I don’t understand anything about math.
I can add the same numbers three times and come up with four different numbers…see?!?
I don’t understand how some people can be on Facebook all
day and night every day and night.
don’t understand people who have nothing to say but go on and on and on.
I don’t understand why I’m not famous.
I don’t understand why my body can’t look like those twenty year olds at the gym even
though I’m twice their age, don’t work out as much as them and don’t have metabolism anymore.
I don’t understand how you can think that
shirt goes with those pants but I guess, good for you.
I don’t understand how I can think I’m not a grudge holder yet I can remember every moment of why someone
pissed me off and immediately get mad about it all over again (even years later) as if I’m Al Pacino doing Method Acting,
using sense memory.
understand how people can say they “don’t have a problem with people being gay” yet they don’t understand
my problem with not getting all the rights of straight people in the eyes of the law.
could go on and on but then I’d be one of my own things that I don’t understand so I’ll stop my list there.
I know you must have a bunch of stuff you don’t understand too so feel free to add to the list. Things I don’t
understand – Don’t Get Me Started!
A Message To Gays Who Take Their Shirt Off In Clubs
A Message To Gays
Who Take Their Shirt Off In Clubs – Don’t Get Me Started!
This past weekend I had a dear friend in from LA visiting and so we decided (though we’re both
happily coupled to the men of our dreams – him even married as he was fortunate to get married to his male mate before
California let the Mormons pay for the pass of Prop 8) we decided to go dance ourselves into a frenzy at the supposed one
gay club on The Strip, Krave. Truth be told there were a lot of gays but also tons of straightees of the male and female persuasion
at this club and I’m convinced that this is the wave of the future, that every club will be a good mix of the gay, straight
and greedy (what I call bisexuals). Like a Benetton ad or the song, “We Are The World”, I’m thinking that
this is the way to bring about real change. After all, can anything bring people closer than dancing, drinking and puking
around one another? And although I’m sure that this happens at straight clubs as well (from watching footage of Spring
Break and other straightee get togethers on television) the proclivity some men have for taking their shirts off should be
more of a privilege in my opinion than a right. A message to gays who take their shirt off in clubs – Don’t Get
If you’ve never
been to a gay club let me just tell you that at most they have what you would call “Go Go Boys” – which
are muscular boys who dance on boxes in their underwear or sometimes elaborate costumes and people put money in their crotches.
(Not bad work if you don’t get too many paper cuts, right?) Make no mistake about it, these are not all gay boys earning
their living by shaking their money makers, a lot of times these are straight boys who adore the attention of the boys and
men at gay clubs and can make a crap load of money from those gays who think there’s a possibility of bagging and tagging
a straight guy. It’s a win-win for everyone. The guys on the dance floor get to look at the hot boys on boxes and the
boys on boxes make their living from undulating and feeling themselves up to the delight of the crowd. In certain towns these
boys can barely do step touch without falling off the box or they’ve taken so many steroids that they simply look like
lobsters with their abdomens looking like a well seasoned lobster tail spilling out of the shell on a plate at a fine restaurant.
They sort of bop to the music but there’s really no dance skill, though let’s face it I don’t think anyone
is tipping them or trying to take them home based on their dance abilities. However, in Vegas, I’m proud to say that
both the straight and gay Go Go Boys seem to actually know how to dance and undulate all at the same time. Fabulous, right?
That said, the boys on the boxes have bodies that range from slim toned to so muscular that you think you’re looking
at one of those bodybuilder magazines that supposed straight guys get for the articles <wink, wink, nudge, nudge>. But
for the most part, they are the “gold standard” if you will for what a well toned body should look like if it
is being flaunted in public.
brings me to the many men who I hope are so drunk or drugged that in some strange way they think they meet the gold standard
of the Go Gos (not to be confused with the Belinda Carlisle band from the 80’s) when in fact the drugged and drunk oft
times do not only not meet the gold standard but not even the gold vermeil standard. I guess I should be saying good for them
that they’re comfortable enough with themselves to take their shirt off in public, let alone around people who look
amazing with their shirts off, all the while their guts hanging over their pants and looking more like someone’s Dad
who is mowing the lawn in the backyard (complete with the t-shirt that was taken off tucked into the pants and hanging looking
like a God only knows what). But please, for the sake of the gays and straights alike who have to look at you with your out
of shape body out in the public without some fabric over it, if you want to do that go to a nudist colony where no one cares.
Believe me when I tell you that everyone at a gay bar cares what you look like once the shirt comes off. You see God gave
us fashion to disguise our flaws and be able to take someone home no matter what sins were lying underneath, once you take
your shirt off the illusion and your sins of too many burgers and fries are on display for all to see. So just do me a favor,
the next time, before you cross both arms in front of you and grab the hem of your t-shirt to do your big reveal, stop a moment
and decide if what lies underneath really needs to be seen by others. A message to gays who take their shirt off in clubs
– Don’t Get Me Started!
If VH1 Shows Are Reality, Iíll Happily Stay In Fantasyland (with the fairies)
If VH1 Shows Are Reality,
I’ll Happily Stay In Fantasyland (with the fairies) – Don’t Get Me Started!
The recent tragedy that unfolded when a contestant on VH1’s
reality show, Megan Wants A Millionaire, killed his wife, cutting off as much of her identity as he could, stuffing her in
a suitcase, running to Canada and ultimately killing himself is absolutely horrific. But I can’t say that it’s
surprising if you’ve ever watched even one half hour of VH1 or any of the other glut of reality shows on television
that make “stars” out of unstable people as we voyeuristically look on feeling so much better about our own mental
deficiencies and the occasional bad choice of a mate. And although VH1 took the show off the air, showing that someone (or
some lawyer) had sense enough to know that it shouldn’t be on featuring a murderer (though they say they’ll bring
it on when the timing is “appropriate”). The network no doubt lost all of fourteen dollars that it takes to make
reality television – remember people who go on reality shows at this point are looking more for the fame than the fortune,
the most expensive thing no doubt is renting these mansions they use. But I digress. A recent viewing of the first episode
of Tool Academy on VH1 (I admit I’m not immune to the guilty pleasure of trash television) it dawned on me that if VH1
shows are reality, I’ll happily stay in Fantasyland (with the fairies) – Don’t Get Me Started!
If you don’t know the set up of Tool Academy,
allow me to give it to you in one sentence. Unstable, egotistical guys get brought to a house by their pathetic low self-esteem
girlfriends to hopefully be transformed from a “tool” to a human. They go through some ridiculous challenges and
they earn badges like Girl Scouts all the while fighting with one another, their “true self” (so there’s
some crying from the steroid induced assholes) and a lot of head shaking for those of us watching the show. What I think VH1
got wrong here is that anyone can see these guys with their pumped up bodies, acting as if they’re “pimps”
and wearing their Ed Hardy sequined tops anywhere. I don’t know, maybe it’s because I live in Vegas but all you
have to do is walk down the Strip and you’re bound to run into these guys with their enormous biceps, rage and small
penises. But what VH1 SHOULD be doing if they wanted to make interesting television is instead of “fixing” the
boyfriends, they should be fixing the girlfriends so that they can understand what part of them is in need of an asshole in
their life, discover their own self-worth and ultimately move onto finding a suitable mate that will be kind and loving instead
of sequined and stupid. I must admit I do love that they give each of the “tools” a “tool name” for
the show. Who wouldn’t want to date “Alpha Male Tool” or “Eye Liner Tool”?
Look, no one is mentally 100% healthy out there (and yes, I
include myself) but as long as we continue our “Lion vs. Man in the arena” mentality I think we’re all in
need of some therapy. As we watch these damaged people pull one another and themselves apart is it any different than having
a better seat with close ups from the coliseum in ancient Rome in your own home? I used to think the whole Mixed Martial Arts
fights were barbaric but the emotional damage that these people come in with (and I believe leave with) seems so much more
pervasive in reality television that getting an ear bit off or a bloody nose in a cage seems almost more civilized. The Christian
Right love to tell us about how the anal sex from Sodom and Gomorrah brought down that civilization but I’m thinking
that the display of emotionally damaged humans on television as they become more damaged may just be a little more damning
for society than some guys taking it up the ass.
Look, I know why reality television started, it was cheap for the networks to produce and we all like to look at
celebrities as we build them up only to revel when they get torn down (you don’t have to look much further than Jon
and Kate plus who cares anymore to see that) so the idea of taking “normal” people and putting them in intense
situations all the while making them think they’re “stars” instead of the “fools” that they
are (and would have been in Elizabethan times) served its sick purpose for all involved (and I include those of us who watch
from home). But perhaps there’s a glimmer of hope out there somewhere. As BBC announced that this will be the last season
for their Big Brother (another thing, we arrogant Americans think we invented reality television when it was really the Brits
along with almost every other show from sitcom to drama that was originally produced in the UK before coming to “the
states”) so perhaps we’re going to see a shift in what we see on television and although it may be too presumptuous
of me, maybe we won’t see “thugs” and “unstable” people being glorified on television anymore.
Perhaps the reality “stars”
will go back to living in their parents’ basements, telling everyone how cool they are all the while wearing their fake
diamond car hood ornaments for jewelry, saving up for rhinestone encrusted teeth and tattooing themselves whenever their parents
will give them the money. They’re just as much of a drain on society as they ever were, not giving back or doing anything
of real value so make no mistake about it, giving them a platform like television hasn’t made them more useful to society
it’s just given the rest of us something to take our minds off of the fact that while our government continues to debate,
the health insurance and drug companies are making sure that health is only for the rich, the religious right continues to
try to keep its stronghold on making everyone who doesn’t believe in their Jesus as second class citizens and the old
guard of white men who feel their grip on ruling the country is giving way have no place to go but television themselves as
they rant and rave like street corner prophets hoping to make a name for themselves on the same medium as the thugs. Is there
a real difference between Rush Limbaugh and Alpha Male Tool? I don’t think so. And both are so mentally unstable that
if you want your kid to be successful you’ll make them become a psychologist because trust me, just flick around the
television and you’ll see how many of us need a good lay down on a couch with a professional (and sometimes the “professional”
is even a therapist too <wink>). If VH1 shows are reality, I’ll happily stay in Fantasyland (with the fairies)
– Don’t Get Me Started!
ago when I was at dinner with a producer from a dinner theater where I worked for eleven years. (It's what I refer to
as My Dazzling Dinner Theater Days)
I was riled up about something and this producer
said, "You should have a radio show where people call and get you fired up and you just go off." As I had a reputation
for going on a tirade the likes of Dixie Carter on Designing Women (remember this was years ago) and as I was constantly starting
my sentences with the phrase above; when I started blogging I decided that this might be a way to get my rants out to the
public at large.
I hope you enjoy them as much as I enjoy writing
Since the site began in August of 2006, people have been writing in (okay, mostly my Mother) telling me that
I needed to do a video blog (or “vblog”) like Rosie and everyone else in the world. Writing the “Don’t
Get Me Started” blog five times a week is daunting enough without adding video production on top of it. Plus, what would
be different about the video blog from the written blog? After the huge response from my blog about being a Forty-Something
Gay during Pride week, it hit me that my video blog would feature topics for us garden variety Forty-Something Gays! I hope
you enjoy them as well as the rest of the Some Like It Scott site!
Some Music While You Read?
At the request of Some Like It Scott reader you can now read
or listen or read AND listen when on the "Don't Get Me Started" page. Click below to turn the music on and
scroll to the bottom to find out what you're listening to!
That's right, Don't Get Me Started! I have no
idea what I was thinking. Well, not true, I thought it looked fabulous. The hair was sufficiently “palmed” out
to give it height and that’s not a shadow you see behind my head, it’s the true bi-level cut of the 80’s
going on, not a mullet, my friends, an honest to goodness Duran Duran inspired bi-level! I had purchased this Gulden's
mustard colored all silk suit at Bloomingdale's with the collarless purple silk shirt and just knew I looked fabulous.
(What a difference a decade or so makes, huh?)
Anyway, I was simply overwhelmed by how many people wrote in telling
me about their hair and fashion disasters, everything from a "Super Freak" outfit to get into a Rick James concert
to a swell guy who wrote about his perm that gave him that “greatest star” Streisand “Star Is Born”
look, or so he thought until he reflected back on it “with one more look at you.”
What's your fashion disaster that was caught on film?